Empathy by Bekajwp.
Summary: Visiting his friends' graves, Remus Lupin gets an unexpected visitor, a longed for confrontation and an unwanted truth. Post HB-P. RL/LP, SS/LP.
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Every year Remus came, unfailingly, no matter how poor or busy. This was the sixteenth time he had pushed back the stiffening iron gates, moved between the grey, upright slabs until by habit he reached the inscription he looked for.
James Potter 1960 -1981
Lily Potter 1960 - 1981
He had never seen the graveyard in the warmth of summer, or the frozen depths of winter. He was late though, later than any other year, and it had chafed at him with every hour that passed. The orange of the sun was deepening, and evening was not far off. The 31st of October was the right day to come to pay his respects. Kneeling on the cold earth, he pushed crackling dead leaves from around the headstones, and carefully plucked up the others scattered across the verge that covered his friends. This done, he laid down a bunch of white carnations, that held in the centre one dark, red rose. It looked almost hidden, if its bloody colour hadn't contrasted so with the pale petals of the carnations.
The chill seeped into his knees, reminding him – as if he needed it – that he wasn't young anymore. Sighing, he slowly stood again, wondering how best to report this years news. He knew they couldn't hear, of course, and that in a way it was purely selfish. A way to comprehend his life. A way of summing up.
Before he could begin, he heard another footstep on the crisp leaves. That was the first time that had happened. It could be – it must be Harry. There was no-one else left who would come. The steps grew closer and he considered suddenly that he may not be the only one who might expect Harry in this time and place, and wrapped his cold fingers around the handle of his wand. He turned his head.
A figure appeared and bloodlust spiked through his veins. Snape. His wand was raised on instinct, though his heart told him to rip the man's throat out with his bare hands. He may get the chance yet. Snape had seen him and immediately had his own wand trained on Lupin. They both froze, no sound save for the slight breeze through the leaves and the flutter and croak of a black bird. He didn't want to duel Snape; he wanted to kill him. But he was horribly aware that Snape had a lot more experience, was a stronger wizard, and knew a lot nastier curses than he did. Still, they stood. Snape's black stare was inscrutable. He looked thinner, more haggard than before. Finally Remus spat out,
"Hoping for Harry, Snape?"
Snape didn't answer, only raised an eyebrow and curled his lip. Then slowly, he lifted his wandless hand. In it was a single red rose. He then moved, oh so slowly forward, eyes still locked with Remus' own, and Remus was forced to circle back. After a few seconds, the Potter graves stood between them; only a few feet stood between them. He lifted the rose, and dropped in lightly onto the grass next to Remus' flowers. Remus' eyes flickered down after it, and disgustedly he spoke again to Snape.
"How dare you? How dare you even come here? I should…"
And Snape spoke for the first time, his rich voice mocking.
"But you won't."
The knuckle of Remus' wand hand were white with pressure; his teeth clenched together.
"And why not?"
Remus prided himself on his cool façade, but there was no trace of it here. Few people had heard him so angry ,and those few people had gotten away quickly when they'd heard that snarl in his voice. Snape, however, faced him unwaveringly, with a half-smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
"Empathy, perhaps? I wonder how many of us there were, in all."
He gestured elegantly with his free hand at the fallen flowers. Remus paused at the change of tack, eyes narrowing more in confusion than anger.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
As though he had expected the reply, Snape cut him off before he had even finished
"How many of us were in love with Lily Evans."
At that reply, Remus' eyes widened in surprise. That had been the last answer he had expected from Snape. Snape the hater of all muggles – mudbloods. He flushed a little, guiltily, words tumbling out half-formed.
"I didn- I wasn- they were my friends. I loved her like a friend."
But the red rose nestled carefully in his bouquet was screaming out his dishonesty, and Snape gave it a very pointed look. Remus flushed even more.
"Right."
Was his drawled reply. After another long second he began to carefully walk backwards, wand still high in the air, eyes still on Remus. Then he paused, carefully accentuated
"A good evening to you, Lupin",
gave a small, mocking bow, and wheeled fluidly around to leave. Remus was aware that his arm was shaking in anger, and he growled out after only two steps
"I won't just let you walk away Snape."
Snape didn't even bother to turn back as he replied in a sing-song tone,
"Then attack me from behind Lupin."
Remus knew that he should. The bastard had killed Dumbledore. He was an easy target. Snape paused, and partly turned to look back. He drawled out,
"No… a true Gryffindor still then. Albus would be so proud."
The derisive smirk immediately following the final comment and the sneering tone of voice suggested a pride in the murder that broke down the last dregs of Remus' morals and resolve. He furiously waved his wand, shouting at the same second Snape apparated away. The spell coursed harmlessly through the space Snape had occupied, a trail of light dissipating through the gloaming, and Remus was alone once more.
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End.
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